


I Walked With You Once Upon a Dream

by EveryDarkCorner



Category: The Harmatia Cycle - M. E. Vaughan
Genre: Basically, Gen, I really hope other people are writing fanfic for this, Inception AU, Lucid Dreaming, can't remember Joshua's surname off by heart but I'm guessing Merle is the best choice??, genre hopping, omg I had to add all the names in new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDarkCorner/pseuds/EveryDarkCorner
Summary: Rufus goes on a genre-hopping adventure through a really, really weird dream.  [BOTD SPOILERS!]





	1. Wild West

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this incredibly silly thing a while ago for Madeleine's birthday, but had to hold back on putting it up until Blood of the Delphi was published and I wouldn't be spoiling anything. Hope everyone's caught up now!

 Rufus woke up in a tavern – which was odd, because he hadn’t fallen asleep in one.

            He blinked hard, shaking sleep from his head.  He sat alone at a table in the corner.  The place was dim, the air was sour with the combined stink of drink and sweat.  His head didn’t hurt, which meant he hadn’t drunk so much he passed out.  So why was he here?

            ‘Joshua?’ he mumbled.

            Most of the patrons were men, wearing strange, rough blue trousers and huge brown hats.  Rufus had never seen clothes like them.  In the corner, a man sat fiddling with a big wooden box that played clonky but chipper music.  A woman sat on top of the box, wearing a huge frilly skirt and red-painted lips, bobbing her head to the music.

            ‘Joshua?’ Rufus repeated, a little louder.  Some of the men glanced up at him, then returned to their drinks.  Rufus stood, knocking his chair with his knees, and staggered to the next table, where four men were playing cards.

            ‘Excuse me,’ he put a hand on the table, ‘have any of you seen my son Joshua?’

None of the men even looked up.

‘He has curly hair,’ Rufus persisted.  ‘He’s this tall.’  He held his hand up near his chest.

            ‘We ain’t seen yer kid,’ one of the men growled.  With their heads down, and all hiding their faces beneath the brims of their wide hats, Rufus couldn’t tell which of them had spoken.

            Rufus glared from one of them to another, and at then at the brown glass bottle in the middle of the table.  He didn’t know what they were drinking – it didn’t smell like beer or wine – but there was a piece of paper stuck to the bottle.  He read it, blinked, and read it again.

            _What?_

            Reaching out, he picked the bottle up and read the label a third time, frowning.  A hand shot out and caught his wrist.

            Hissing a breath between gritted teeth, Rufus looked down at the man who’d grabbed him.  He’d finally turned his head up: he had a thick, black moustache, and stubble over his chin.

            ‘Y’ain’t takin’ my whiskey, boy,’ he growled.

            Rufus knitted his brow at ‘boy’, but shrugged.  ‘I only want the label.’  He ripped it off before giving the bottle of whiskey – whatever that was – back to the moustachioed man.

            Stepping back, Rufus looked down at himself.  He was wearing the same odd clothes as the other men in the tavern.  There were pockets near the hips of his rough blue trousers – he scrunched the label up and shoved it inside.

            _BANG!_

            Rufus jumped a foot in the air.  The giant music box in the corner played a crash of discordant notes, and abruptly stopped.

            Rufus whipped around on his toes, and for the first time saw the door out of the tavern.  Well, not a door so much as a fence; it only covered half the space of the doorway, and seemed to swing open with no resistance.  More importantly, a man stood in front of it, staring at Rufus with a snarl on his ugly face.

            ‘Sheriff Merle,’ he growled.  ‘I finally found yer.’

            ‘Um.’  Rufus glanced to the side, as if hoping for support from one of the many other patrons in the tavern.  They stared gormlessly back at him.  Rufus turned back to the stranger in the doorway.  ‘Rufus.  It’s _Rufus_ Merle.  Not Sheriff.’

            ‘Don’t play the idjit with me, Sheriff.’  The ugly man pulled a metal tube out of his black jacket.  ‘We got us a score to settle.’

            ‘We do?’  Rufus shook his head.  ‘We have?’

            Behind Rufus, someone bellowed, ‘You gonna fight, you take it outta my saloon, y’hear!’

            ‘What?’ Rufus said, but next thing he felt a push in his back – some bastard had _shoved_ him – and he tripped towards the ugly man in the doorway.  The ugly man stepped aside and Rufus tumbled through the swinging not-quite-doors and outside.

            It was glaringly bright – Rufus could barely keep his eyes open – the sun blistering on his skin.  There was no grass; there were no trees.  The sky overhead was piercingly blue, the ground yellow and dusty.  Even the wooden buildings seemed faded, bleached from so long in the sun.  The only green he could see anywhere was a single, upright plant someway down the street, covered in spiky needles.

            Behind him, the ugly man burst out the tavern, silver tube in hand.  ‘Draw yer gun, Sheriff.’

            Rufus stared.  ‘My what?’

            ‘Suit yerself.’  The ugly man sneered, stepped out into the street and circled Rufus, silver tube pointed at him.  ‘This town ain’t big enough fer the both of us.’

            Rufus looked up and down the street.  Wooden buildings stretched almost to the horizon.  It wasn’t Harmatia City, but it wasn’t exactly tiny, either.  ‘Are you sure?  Seems reasonably big to me—’

            Light flashed from the end of the ugly man’s silver tube, and it crashed like thunder.  Just behind Rufus’s head, splinters of wood burst from the tavern wall, as if struck by invisible lightning.

            ‘HOLY GODS!’ Rufus threw himself to the floor, rolling away from the ugly man, who now aimed the metal tube again.

            Thunder burst from the tube and Rufus darted away with a yelp.  Rufus suspected it was less his ability to dodge saving him, and more his opponent’s terrible aim.

            He touched his pocket.  Really, it shouldn’t matter if he was hurt.

            It _shouldn’t_.

            Standing up straight, cringing, he spread his arms as the ugly man raised the metal tube again.  There was a bang, and Rufus gasped as something hit his chest, hard as a fist, burning hot.  The skin at the base of his neck tingled, and then—

            He hit the ground and wheezed.  The pain in his chest was gone.  Rolling over, Rufus looked up and groaned.

            Pointing another metal tube at him, Zachary said, ‘Get up, Merle.’


	2. Space Opera

Rufus staggered to his feet, eyes flicking around.  The arid desert was gone, and so were the bleached wood buildings, and the ugly man.  Instead, he was now in a brightly lit hallway, the walls off-white and undecorated.

            Zachary took a small step back as Rufus got to his feet.  ‘Merle, what are you wearing?’

            Rufus checked his clothes.  It was the same blue trousers and crumpled shirt he’d worn in the tavern, now dusty from rolling around in the dirt.  Then he studied Zachary.  ‘I could ask you the same.’

            Zachary frowned.  ‘This is my uniform, you lout.’

            Rufus raised his eyes.  ‘I left for a few years and the Night Patrol changed their uniform to bright red?  Subtle.’

            Zachary glanced down at his jacket, affronted.  It was so shiny Rufus could see his reflection in it.  He’d never seen material that shimmered like that, like metal.

            ‘If you didn’t want to wear the uniform, you shouldn’t have signed up for the redshirt corps,’ Zachary said primly.  ‘Come on.’  He twitched his metal tube.

            Rufus started to walk, warily, and to his relief Zachary tucked the metal tube in his trousers.  His mind whirled.  Zachary was here, and he wasn’t trying to kill him.  Well, he wasn’t making a _huge_ effort to kill him, which was more than Rufus had ever expected.

            ‘Zachary, where are we?’ he murmured.

            Zachary frowned.  ‘What’s the matter with you, Merle?’

            ‘Nothing.’  Rufus shook his head, his throat sticking.  He wasn’t supposed to be here.  First the tavern, now this … he reached into his pocket and drew out the label from the whiskey bottle.  ‘Look, are you really Zachary?’

            Zachary side-eyed him.  ‘What’s _wrong_ with you?’

            Rufus ran a hand through his hair and tugged his fringe.  ‘Nothing’s wrong with me.  Look, Zachary, how did you get here?’

            ‘I joined the redshirt corps,’ Zachary responded immediately.

            There was, Rufus realised, a strange humming emanating from the walls.  It grated on his ears and he gritted his teeth.  ‘No, how did you get into this hallway?  Today, specifically.’

            ‘I—’  Zachary stopped.  ‘I, um.’  He narrowed his eyes, whipping his metal tube out of his belt and jabbing it at Rufus.  ‘What did you do to me, Merle?  Another childish prank?  Something to mess with my memory?’

            ‘You can’t remember,’ Rufus said, ‘because it isn’t real.’

            Zachary glared.  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

            They’d come to a stop by a window: outside, it was dark.  They must’ve been really high up: Rufus could see no land, no trees – nothing but the tiny pinpricks of stars. 

He handed Zachary the label.  ‘Read this.’

            Zachary took it between two fingers, as if he expected it to sting.  Unfolding it, he squinted at the text and looked back up.  ‘It says “You’re dreaming”.  It means nothing.  You wrote it yourself.’

            ‘Look again,’ Rufus insisted.

            Zachary read it again, and his eyes widened.  He gripped his metal tube tighter, hand shaking.  ‘How did you do that?  Is it holographic?’

            ‘What?’  Rufus frowned.  ‘Arlen, it’s a piece of paper.’

            Zachary looked at the label and back.  ‘The words … they keep changing.’  He sounded faint.

            Rufus took the label back.  The first time he’d looked at it, it simply read ‘Best Whiskey’.  Then, the second time, ‘Joshua isn’t here’.  Now they said, ‘He’s really Zachary’.  He blinked, and they said, ‘Help him’.

            With a shudder, he crammed the label back in his pocket.  ‘We’re both stuck in a dream.  Some kind of spell, I think.’

            ‘You’re dead,’ Zachary said, and Rufus went cold.  Zachary took a step back.  ‘I remember.  I saw your body.  They dragged it into the palace.  I saw it …’

            ‘It wasn’t me,’ Rufus said quickly, although his stomach lurched, knowing he shouldn’t say it.

            Zachary swallowed hard.  ‘You’re alive?’

            ‘Don’t—’ Rufus’s voice cracked, and he had to start again.  ‘Don’t tell Sverrin.’  As he said it, he knew it was hopeless.  Sverrin was to Zachary what Jionat had been to him; anything Zachary knew, he would tell Sverrin.  He wished he hadn’t spoken.

            But Zachary shook his head.  ‘I can’t.’  He frowned.  ‘I … don’t know why, but I can’t tell him.’  He knitted his brow, staring at Rufus.  ‘Merle, why can’t I speak to Sverrin?’

            Rufus stared.  He didn’t know.  He turned to the window.  Something was moving out there.  ‘Zachary, where are we?’

            ‘We’re in space,’ Zachary said.

            ‘What’s space?’

            This, apparently, stumped Zachary.  ‘Uhh.  We’re um.’  He followed Rufus’s line of sight out the window.  His eyes widened, as if he’d suddenly realised.  ‘We’re flying in a ship in the stars.’  He sounded surprised by this development.

            ‘This ship sails in the stars?’ Rufus said.

            Zachary winced.  ‘Yes?’

            ‘ _How?_ ’ Rufus said.  ‘Do you row it?  Are there sails?’

            ‘No,’ Zachary said quickly.  ‘No, we, we um.  We power it with a … star.’

            ‘With a star,’ Rufus repeated, flatly.

            Zachary nodded, and then shrugged.

            Rufus turned back to the window.  Whatever was moving outside, it was getting closer: a greyish blob against the black night.  ‘You sail in the stars, pluck them out of the sky, and use them to fly?’

            ‘No, we make our own stars,’ Zachary said.  ‘Tiny ones.  Then we rip them apart, and use the energy from that to fly.’  He frowned, as if he had no idea where this information was coming from.

            Rufus barked a laugh.  ‘You can _make stars_ , and you use this incredible power to _rip them apart_ and fly?  You haven’t, I don’t know, made a new star to use magic with?  One that’s strong all day?’

            ‘I won’t lie, Merle,’ Zachary said, ‘it sounded more far-fetched when I said it out loud.’

            Rufus laughed again.  He hadn’t ever expected to have this again; this sense of easiness between him and Zachary.  If he ever saw his brother again, he’d only thought it could end in blood.  He felt an urge to throw his arm over Zachary’s shoulder, but then he was distracted by the thing moving out the window.

            ‘What _is_ that?’

            ‘What?’ Zachary shifted.

            Rufus pointed at the grey blob, just as red light flashed from it, and the wall beside him buckled inwards.

            He and Zachary stumbled and fell back, crying out at the same time.  The floor seemed to tip, rolling over like a real ship in a storm.

            ‘The Gallifortigonianscrumpets!’ Zachary cried, lunging to his feet before Rufus.

            ‘The – the what now?’ Rufus got to his feet by clawing his way up the wall.

            ‘The Gallifortigonianscrumpets!  They’re people from another world.  They have … um … they have antennae on their heads.  Like snails,’ Zachary finished lamely, miming antennae over his forehead.  ‘Gallifortigonianscrumpets.’

            ‘That’s not a real word,’ Rufus said.

            ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s _real_ ,’ Zachary snapped.  ‘They’re attacking our ship!  They’re attacking and we’re going to be ki—’ He cut off, eyes growing wide with excitement.  ‘We’re dreaming.  If we die, we’ll wake up.’

            ‘Wait—’ Rufus said, but too late; Zachary grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the buckled wall.

            Rufus saw another flash of light through the window, and the wall crashed into pieces.  Rather than falling backwards, though, Rufus found himself pulled _forwards_ , sucked out through the whole in the wall, gripping Zachary’s hand like his life depended on it.

            He gasped for breath, and felt like he’d taken a lungful of water.  His throat and chest burned.  He and Zachary hung, weightless, in the dark.  Rufus clawed at his throat, and as he thrashed his body twisted, like he really was underwater.  Zachary’s hand slipped out of his and he tried to cry out and reach for him again—


	3. Fairy Tale

Something grabbed the back of his shirt, and then Rufus was falling.  His stomach swooped as he tumbled.  He hit the ground and bit his tongue, and cried out in pain.  Then whatever had hold of his shirt landed heavily on top of him.

            Zachary grunted and rolled off him.  Rufus swatted vengefully at him, but his arms were weak.  His lungs burned.  There was air here, and he gasped it down gratefully.  Every breath hurt.  He wound his arms around his stomach and heaved, tears stinging his eyes.

            ‘Are … you … all right?’ Zachary panted, sprawled out next to him.  ‘Are … we … awake?’

            Rufus let out a pained groan in response.  He heard a thump, which he assumed was Zachary flopping on his back.

            Gradually, Rufus struggled upright.  He sat with his knees bent up, his arms looped around them.  ‘We’re still dreaming.’  His voice was raspy and raw.

            Zachary sat up next to him and looked around.  ‘This _looks_ like Harmatia.’

            He wasn’t wrong.  They were in a spacious, green forest.  Light filtered down through the foliage, shimmering.  The ground was grassy, sprinkled with scrubby ferns.  This could be the Myrithian Forest.  One of the more pleasant parts, anyway.

            ‘You’re still wearing your shiny uniform,’ Rufus croaked.

            Zachary pinched his jacket between his fingers and pulled it out so he could look at it.  Then he wilted.  ‘So I am.’

            Rufus dug the label out of his pocket and read it.  It said, ‘Nice try.’  With a huff, he handed it over to Zachary.  ‘See for yourself.’

            Zachary read the label and sighed.  ‘I should’ve guessed.  If we woke up, we wouldn’t be together, would we?  I’d be with Sverrin, and you …’  He trailed off.

            ‘You know I can’t tell you where I am.’  Rufus stood, brushing down his rough blue trousers.

            ‘Mm.’  Zachary stood.  His expression was troubled, and Rufus thought back to his earlier concern.  Why _wouldn’t_ Zachary be able to speak to Sverrin?  Was he away from Harmatia for some reason?  When he turned to Rufus, though, he only said, ‘Why didn’t we wake up?’

            ‘I don’t know,’ Rufus said.  ‘Must be part of the spell.  I tried it earlier, and I just woke up on that flying ship with you.’

            ‘So, who cast this spell?’ Zachary said.  ‘You?’

            Rufus shook his head.  ‘I thought it was one of yours.  Someone in the Night Patrol?’

            Zachary wrinkled his nose doubtfully.

            Letting out a breath through his nose, Rufus started to walk.  ‘Well, waiting here isn’t going to help us.’

            With a murmured agreement, Zachary fell in step beside him.  The path, at least, was easy, not tangled with brambles or tree roots.  After a while, though, that in itself began to feel eerie.  Rufus had never walked though a forest that didn’t try to trip him up every other step.

            Zachary stopped.  ‘I hear something.’

            ‘Hmm?’  Rufus went quiet, but heard nothing.

            ‘Singing,’ Zachary said.  ‘There’s a woman singing.  This way.’

            Ducking his head, he stepped off the path and cut through the trees.  Rufus hurried to follow.  Branches snagged at his shirt, the twigs gnarled to look like hands, grasping for him.  Strange, furtive things moved in the undergrowth, and suddenly, Rufus felt eyes watching him from the shadows.  Gone was the sweet forest by the path.  This place felt haunted.  He shuddered.

            ‘Zachary?’

            ‘This way.’  Zachary ploughed forward, apparently unconcerned by the sudden change of scenery. 

Rufus pressed on, huffing for breath.  The pain in his lungs was gone, but his heart beat hard.  Just what kind of place was this?  He remembered the things he’d faced in the Myrithian Forest, and chills swept through this blood.

            Then, finally, he heard it: singing.  The voice was sweet, trilling high notes as effortlessly as a songbird, sweeping and bouncing through a cheerful song.  Rufus recognised the voice, and almost burst out laughing.

            ‘Luca!’

            Zachary looked back over his shoulder, and Rufus pushed past him, beaming.

            ‘That’s Luca’s voice.  Hey!  Luca!’

            There was a faint yellow light up ahead through the trees.  Rufus darted forwards, following the Luca’s singing.  Behind him, he heard Zachary’s heavy footsteps.

            Rufus burst out into the light.  It wasn’t as painfully bright as the desert; the sun here was softer, the scenery more colourful.  A little thatch cottage sat in the clearing, next to a bubbling silver stream.  A small mill turned in the water, throwing sparkles of spray over its top.  Sitting on the grass next to it, surrounded by animals, was Luca.

            Rufus stopped stared.  Zachary bumped into his back as he came out the woods.

            He’d never seen so many wild animals gathered in one place.  Rabbits sat around Luca’s legs, a couple of plump chickens clucking by her side, along with grouchy-looking badger and a fox, both sitting peacefully, miraculously un-enticed by all the other edible animals around them.  A squirrel perched on Luca’s shoulder, and a stark white dove perched on the tip of her outstretched finger, cooing along to her singing.

            ‘What the hell is she doing?’ Zachary murmured.

Rufus shook his head, mute.  There were even _fish_ poking their heads out the river to listen to her.  _Fish_ , for Notameer’s sake!

            At that moment, Luca lifted her head and spotted them.  The beautiful smile fell from her face and she gasped, leaping gracefully to her feet.  ‘Oh no!’  She covered her mouth with the hand not still holding a bird, and then pointed across at Rufus and Zachary.  ‘Strangers!  I’m not allowed to talk to strangers!’

            With a chorus of tiny alarmed squeaks, the animals scattered.  The dove flew from her finger and disappeared into the woods like a ghost.  Luca stood, legs trembling, a lone squirrel still perched on her shoulder.

            Rufus held his hands up.  ‘Luca, it’s me.  Rufus.  We’re stuck in a spell.’

            She continued to stare, terrified, as he approached – until the squirrel on her shoulder shifted, snuffling at her hair.  Rufus was struck by the odd feeling that it was whispering in her ear.

            ‘Here.’  Rufus took the label from his pocket and held it out to her.  ‘Read it, then look away and read again.’

            She took the label and did as he asked, eyes widening with shock upon the second reading.  ‘This is magic,’ she murmured.  Then she looked up and met Rufus’s eyes, holding his gaze fearlessly.  ‘I _do_ know you.  Rufus.’  She shook her head, then looked around at the trees and the cottage.  ‘Rufus, where are we?’

            Taking the label back, Rufus stuffed it in his pocket.  ‘It’s a dream.  I think someone’s put us in a spell.’

            Luca put a hand to her forehead, pushing her hair out of her eyes.  ‘That’s so strange.  I didn’t even _recognise_ you.’  She looked up.  ‘Who did this?’

            Rufus shook his head.  ‘We don’t know.  We both just woke up here.’  He looked over his shoulder, and saw Zachary hovering some paces away.  Luca leaned over sideways to look past Rufus, and her eyes narrowed.

            ‘Isn’t he …?’

            ‘Arlen Zachary, my brothering apprentice,’ Rufus said quickly.  ‘He’s trapped here too.’

            He waved at Zachary over; Zachary shuffled forward, eyes on Luca.

            ‘I think we have to work together,’ Rufus said.  ‘Whoever sent us here, we don’t know what side they’re on.’

            ‘Um,’ a small voice piped up, ‘I think I know.’

            Rufus spun in a full circle before turning back to face Luca.  There was no one else there.

            ‘Papa?  Here.’  On Luca’s shoulder, the squirrel waved one of its tiny paws.

            ‘Joshua?’  Rufus stared.  ‘Joshua, you’re a squirrel.’

            ‘Yes,’ Joshua-the-squirrel said sheepishly.

            Rufus opened his mouth, and closed it, and opened it again.  ‘Stop that.’

            ‘I can’t, it’s part of the spell.’  Joshua scratched the back of his red-brown head.  ‘I, um, I might’ve accidentally cast it.’

            ‘Rufus, who is this?’ Zachary put in.  ‘Why are we talking to a squirrel?’

            ‘This is my son, Joshua,’ Rufus said, the lie coming quickly.

            Zachary stared, deadpan.  ‘Your son.’

            ‘Yes,’ Rufus said.

            ‘You have a son.’

            ‘Yes.’

            ‘And your son is a squirrel.’

            ‘I’m not _really_ a squirrel,’ Joshua said, with incredible patience.  ‘I was practising spells with Fae, and this one sort of … took us by surprise.’  He stared at Zachary, twitching his nose.  ‘Papa, who is this?’

            ‘My brother, Zachary,’ Rufus said.  ‘Joshua, how did you cast a spell on people you don’t even _know_?’

            Joshua shrugged, awkwardly in his tiny form.  ‘I messed it up.  A lot.’

            Rufus sighed.  ‘All right.  Do you know how to un-mess it up?’

            Joshua winced.  ‘Fae knows.’


	4. Silent Movie

Fae was in trouble.

            She wriggled, biting her lip with irritation, trying to free her arms from the thick ropes all around her body.  If she could just slip one hand out, she could undo the knot at her stomach and—

            ‘Struggling will do you no good, my dear!’  The man standing over her let out a long, nasal laugh.

            Fae rolled her eyes.  He was the stupidest looking man she’d ever seen: tall and spindly, with a black moustache that he kept twirling, and a tall, round hat.

            ‘I suppose I’ll just lie here and wait for you to decide what you want to do with me,’ she said.

            The man let out his whiny laugh again.  ‘Oh, I’ve already decided, my dear!  You’ll see for yourself, any second now.’  He looked into the distance.

            Fae followed his gaze.  The scenery was strange: barren and plain.  Strangest of all, there was absolutely no colour.  Only shades of grey.  Fae lay across two strips of metal.  They stretched far into the distance in either direction.  Planks of wood were spaced evenly between the strips of metal.

            ‘Nothing’s happening.’ She started to wriggle again.

            The ridiculous man said nothing, and distantly, she thought she heard a rumble.  On the far horizon, a shadow appeared – right where the metal strips started.

            The man wheezed another laugh, twirling his moustache.  ‘The train is coming, my dear!’

            What was a train?  Some kind of animal?  Whatever it was, it sounded big.  Heart beating hard, she dug her feet into the dirt and tried to push herself across the ground.  It was no good: the ropes only tightened around her body.  He’d tied her to the metal strips.

            ‘Ugh!’  Fae threw her head back and kicked again.

            The man cackled.

            Then, overhead, Fae heard a scream.  She frowned.  ‘Rufus?’

            He appeared as a speck in the grey sky, hurtling towards the ground.  More specks appeared around him, all of them colourful, and all screaming as they fell.

            They landed around her with a series of thumps, the air huffing out of them.

            Fae arched an eyebrow.  ‘Nice of you to drop in.’

            ‘Har har,’ Rufus wheezed, rolling onto all fours.  He crawled over to Fae and tugged at the ropes around her.  ‘We’re in a dream, a spell.  It’s me, it’s Rufus.  Here, I have a piece of paper …’  He let go of the rope and started digging in the pockets of his strange trousers.

            ‘Well, obviously we’re in a spell.  And of course you’re Rufus.’  She twisted, looking along the strips of metal on the ground.  The train, whatever it was, seemed to be getting bigger.  ‘Will you hurry up and untie me?’

            Rufus followed her line of sight, and spotted the train.  ‘Oh, that doesn’t look good.’

            ‘Do you think?’  Fae glared.

            Ducking his head, Rufus grabbed the knot at Fae’s stomach and wrenched.  Behind him, the others staggered to their feet.  Fae recognised Luca.  The man behind Luca, she distinctly remembered trying to kill.  Oddly, there was also a squirrel on Luca’s shoulder.

            ‘Noooo!’  The ridiculous man with the moustache, momentarily forgotten, leaped at Rufus.  ‘You won’t ruin my dastardly scheme!’

            The man Fae remembered trying to kill – Zachary, that was his name – stepped forward and pushed the ridiculous man over.  He lay in the dirt, wailing and kicking his legs pathetically.

            The rumbling in the distance was not so distant anymore.  The metal shook underneath Fae.  When she looked up, the shadow of the train – some colossal, metal object – was falling over them.

            And then, Rufus let out a whoop of triumph.  He grabbed Fae’s shoulders and pulled her out of the way, the ropes uncoiling around her.  A moment later, the train thundered past.  Wind rushed past Fae’s back, whipping her hair around her.

            She waited until the noise eased away, face buried in Rufus’s shoulder.  Then she sat up.  ‘Thank you.’

            Rufus touched her arm.  ‘You’re all right?’

            ‘Well,’ Fae sat back, brushing herself down, ‘even if the train hit me, I’d have just woken up in another dream.  And you could’ve been faster about untying me.  But still,’ she patted Rufus on the cheek, ‘thanks.’

            He twisted his lips in a wry smile.  ‘Get us out of here, ungrateful wench.’

            Fae rose to her feet, looking around.  What in the world was Zachary wearing?  And why was there a squirrel?

            The squirrel waved at her, and she burst out laughing.  ‘Joshua?’

            ‘Don’t laugh!’ Joshua cried.

            She laughed even harder, shaking her head.  ‘Is this everyone?’

            ‘Yes,’ Rufus said.

            ‘Are you sure?’  She raised an eyebrow.  ‘There’s no one we’ve missed?’

            Rufus shrugged. ‘I hope not.’

            Fae spread her arms and focused.  She closed her eyes.  It wasn’t a difficult spell to break, when you knew how.  ‘Give me a moment.’

            Rufus watched her, until Zachary tapped his arm.  Zachary jerked his head, in a gesture that said, ‘come with me’.  Rufus followed him a few steps away from the others, ignoring Luca’s suspicious frown.

            ‘Merle, something’s wrong with my real body,’ Zachary said.

            ‘What is it?’ Rufus whispered.

            Zachary shrugged helplessly.  ‘I don’t know.  Something happened to me.  Sverrin, he’s done something.  I can’t speak.  I can’t _think_.’  His eyes widened.  ‘Merle, I don’t want to wake up.  If I go back …’ He shivered.  ‘Don’t make me wake up.’

            An ache of pity shot through Rufus’s chest.  He put a hand on his brother’s arm.  ‘We have to wake up, Zachary.’

            Zachary straightened, his expression going carefully blank.  ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice hard.  ‘Yes, of course.  You’re right.’

            ‘Arlen, we’ll help you,’ Rufus promised.  ‘Whatever’s happened to you.’

            Zachary’s expression wavered.  His voice dropped below even a whisper.  ‘I’m in Harmatia.  You can’t.’

            Rufus clapped him on the shoulder.  ‘We’ll find a way.’

            Zachary smiled, but it was faint and queasy.

            ‘Rufus!’ Fae called, snapping their attention back to the rest of the group.  ‘It’s time to go.’

            Hesitantly, Rufus let his hand slide off Zachary’s arm.  They walked back together, and Fae frowned, her hands trembling as she raised them.  Rufus felt the skin at the back of his neck tingle —

 


	5. Mag Mell

Rufus woke up in the library with a snort.  He lifted his head off the table, and then peeled off the piece of parchment that’d stuck to his cheek.  He looked around blearily.  _Joshua?_

_Joshua!  The dream!_

He leaped to his feet.

            He raced down the hallway, ducking around the Sidhe and other people, towards the gardens.  Bursting into the daylight, he charged across the lawn.  He could see the woods, in the distance, where Fae and Joshua walked that morning.

            Rufus skidded to a halt as two figures stepped out the cover of the trees.  Fae had an arm slung over Joshua’s shoulder and they were laughing.  Joshua waved at Rufus brightly.

_Thank Athea, he’s not a squirrel._

 

* * *

 

 

‘Luca?  Luuuca?’

            Luca sat upright with a gasp.  Her father stared down at her, hands on his hips.  She’d fallen asleep at the table, leaning against the wall in the tavern.

            ‘You dozed off for a moment there, huh?’ her father said.

            ‘Mm.’  Luca stood, brushing her skirt off.  ‘Sorry.  What’re we doing?’

 

* * *

 

 

Zachary woke up in darkness.  His mouth tasted of blood.  He didn’t bother getting up.


	6. Regency

The girls tittered.  Aeron looked around, scowling.  This was some kind of toff dealie, the boring kind of party where no one really got drunk, or stabbed, or started a filthy orgy in the corner.  Pretty music tinkled in the background.  People twirled in a stiff, painfully polite dance.  It was, he reflected miserably, the kind of place where you were thrown out if you were even a little bit sick on the floor.

            He wished he could remember how he got here.  Or even where ‘here’ was.

            ‘Oh Mr Faucon,’ the girl nearest him said brightly, ‘ _do_ go on!’  She, like the others gathered round him, wore a frilly white dress, with flowers plaited into her curled hair.  On the bright side, her dress was cut low enough to show she had some truly incredible tits.

            ‘How in the fuck does a man parch a desert throat round here?’ Aeron said.

            The girls all giggled.  ‘Such charming, rustic manners!’

            Aeron frowned.  Clearly none of them understood a damn word he said.  He shifted, pulling his trousers away from his crotch.  He couldn’t remember putting the damn things on, but he wanted desperately to toss them off, and throw them in a fire.

            ‘Mr Faucon, do you dance?’ one the girls – a redhead – asked.

            Glancing down to her ample cleavage, Aeron said, ‘Tell ya what, you shuffle outta that tackle and I’ll consider givin’ you a twirl.’

            The girl smiled back, bemused.  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know that dance, Mister Faucon.’

            He smirked.  ‘Tell ya what, how’s about I snatch us a private room and I can educate you how to do a shuffle like a Faucon?’

            The girls gasped delightedly.  ‘Oh please!’

            ‘A new dance?  That’d be wonderful!’

            ‘I haven’t learned a new dance in years.’

            Faucon stood and walked out the ballroom, girls trailing behind him.  Maybe this party wasn’t so bad, after all.


End file.
